Crescendo “Ready, Avani?” Sofia asks. She brushes her hands through her hair, flattening the fly-aways, and turns to face me. I look up from the small white binder which held our trio song: Somewhere Over The Rainbow. Glancing at Sofia, then shifting my gaze toward Ingrid, I swallow hard, take a deep breath, and nod. “Next, we have Avani, Ingrid, and Sofia performing Somewhere Over The Rainbow!” Mr. Almen says, gesturing at us. We shuffle into the gym, and stand in front of the rest of the fifth grade choir. My fingers tremble as I struggle to adjust the microphone. The intro music plays over the speakers and my heart beats faster and faster. So much so that it drowns out the music and the only noise in my ears is the sound of my rapid breathing. My throat closes up, becoming drier than the Sahara desert. I remain there, mindlessly mouthing the words to the eminently familiar melody, but no sound escapes my lips. “Ready, Avani?” my mom asks as I hand her my coat. I inhale and reach for my sheet music, my hands shaking. “I mean, I guess,” I say, attempting a smile. Backstage, I search the chairs until I find mine. A neatly folded piece of paper is placed gently across the plastic back; it reads: Avani Deglurkar – MMTA Junior B Contest Winner. Heart racing, I take a seat and open the music, laying it on my lap. I press my fingertips to the page, close my eyes, and begin playing the notes. The crinkling of the laminated paper sounds quietly, but only the overly practiced tune resounds in my ears. “Junior B, you’re up,” the stage manager says. I walk cautiously, as rehearsed, to my assigned piano. As we begin playing, I attempt to fill the convention center with my harmony, but my finger slips on the third note. My stomach drops and my hands become clammy. I glance at my duet partner; his fingers fly lightly across the keys. Determined to not let him down, I brush the mistake off, and continue playing. Still, this has taken a toll on my confidence, and only a small amount of sound emerges from the piano. “Ready, Avani?” the judge asks. She raises her eyebrows, peering over her dark brown glasses. As I stand, the virtual room erupts into a silent applause. I suck in some air, then exhale. Buttoning my blazer, I fix my hair and press the unmute button. I pause, nod at the judge, and begin my speech. After the round, I pop my AirPods into my ears. The music calms me. My heart is pounding in my chest as I drive to the high school for the announcement of awards. “And in first place in Great Speeches, Avani Deglurkar!” Coach Nelson says, smiling behind his mask. My breath catches in my throat, and my hands are shaky as I accept my award. I finally know how to fill the room with my sound.